


Fly Like Paper, High Like Planes

by Tabbyluna



Category: Skylanders (Video Games)
Genre: Fantasy Identity Politics, Fantasy Politics, Gen, Intergenerational friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Smuggling, The author is screaming as she posts this, grey morality, possibly problematic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26676040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabbyluna/pseuds/Tabbyluna
Summary: Stormblade was the first of the original Superchargers to volunteer for the Undercover Ninja Commando programme. Someone gave her the offer, and she jumped at the chance to do something new.
Relationships: Stormblade & Softpaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Fly Like Paper, High Like Planes

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning, but there will be discussions of fantasy identity politics. I have no idea what I even coded it as, if I even ended up coding it as similar to any real world culture at all. I did try to be respectful. But if you find it too offensive, please let me know as well as any changes I could potentially make for it. Or if I really do need to take this story down.

Stormblade was the first of the original Superchargers to volunteer for the Undercover Ninja Commando programme. Someone gave her the offer, and she jumped at the chance to do something new. By that point, she had spent a good many years as a Skylander. But she still had an adventurous spirit within her, and was still willing to try new things, no matter what they might be. After she had completed her training, she was assigned her first mission. Thankfully, it was alongside a familiar face.

“So, we meet again, Stormblade.” Softpaw took her hand, and shook it hard. He had a tight grip, but his paws were indeed very soft. ”Glad to have you here with us.”

“I’m just glad I’m starting out with someone I know,” said Stormblade. She stayed up all night a mixture of nervous and excited. Wondering what assignment she would receive, where in Skylands she would be sent, how long she would spend undercover, who her partner would be if she was even given one. The uncertainty of it all was exhilarating for her, for the most part. But she had to admit, she was still a tiny bit scared. Having something familiar with her definitely helped to ease some of the nerves she was feeling. 

They stood outside what appeared to be an abandoned tuna canning factory. But looks could be - and often were - deceiving in the world of undercover operations. Stormblade got a tour of the place on the first day of her training. And though it appeared to be an abandoned factory, it was in actuality the current headquarters of the Undercover Ninja Commandos. The set-up would only be temporary, because they always changed their headquarter’s location every two years. She was told that it was to avoid drawing suspicion from outsiders by staying in one place for too long. 

It was all rather impressive. In the building, there were cubicles set up for paperwork, a laboratory to create new inventions, and an area to test out those inventions. There were people there who did nothing but come up with fake identities, and there were people who made costumes for said identities. There was a hangar for aircraft and a garage for other vehicles. And most important of all, there was a well-stocked break room. All in all, it was a fine place to run an organisation on a medium scale. (Relative to Skylands, of course. Medium scale operations were still quite a monster to pull off in a world as large as that.)

In the hangar, Stormblade had parked the Sky Slicer, and many people within the organisation had reassured her that her plane would be well taken care of while she was away. “Right, now. We better read our assignment, partner.” Softpaw held up a manila folder, picked up from his pigeonhole that morning. “Let’s see where in Skylands they’re sending us.”

He led the two of them to some nearby benches. Back when the factory was still functional, workers used to eat their lunches there. Now, they were old and rickety thanks to the wood rotting, but no one had bothered to get rid of them. The two of them sat down, and the benches rocked under them. But once they gained their balance on the seat, Softpaw pulled the papers out of the folder for the two of them to go over.

There was a ton of political tension going on in a tiny group of islands near the South of Skylands, the Perahu Islands. The current monarchy, against a smaller group of freedom fighters. “It’s a real messy situation they have going on there,” said Softpaw, looking through the whole report. Stormblade tried to read through the whole timeline with him, but got confused halfway through. 

Once Softpaw finished skimming through the report, Stormblade asked him, “Can you give me a summary about the whole situation there? Just need to clarify and see if I got all the details right.” She had never been a particularly political person. Some of the jargon used was unfamiliar to her.

Softpaw nodded. “See, there’s been a lot of arguing about who the true monarchs are for quite a while now. For the time being, King Palm and Queen Areca are the rulers, but a significant number of the population disagree. There’s people who want the rulers to be different people, and there’s the majority of the freedom fighters, who want to establish a democracy to replace the monarchy.”

He placed the background information back into the folder, leaving the papers regarding their new identities for the operation. “Our job is to supply weapons to the freedom fighters, as well as anything else they might need. Like medicines, armour, that sort of thing.”

Stormblade nodded in understanding. “Oh, I see. So how are we going to do that?”

Softpaw picked up the two pieces of paper consisting of their fake identities, and passed her one of them. “Well, the islands are currently in disarray, and so the King and Queen have posted guards all over to try and maintain some order. Of course, that complicates things. Both for the freedom fighters, and for us.”

Stormblade nodded. Then skimmed through the page she was given. She was to now go by the name Mama Peahen, disguise herself as an actual peahen, and drive a food truck around the peninsula. “So, the higher ups have decided that we needed to go under disguise. We’ll be driving a food truck and supplying weapons parts through that.”

“And we won’t get caught?” She asked.

“It would decrease our chances of getting caught significantly. The guards don’t inspect things like food trucks too much because of the tourism industry there. If they do, especially in broad daylight, it would scare them off.” He explained.

“There’s a tourism industry?”

“Quite a successful one too, might I add.” He looked through his profile while he conversed. “It makes the island money, so the King and Queen use a lot of their resources on tourism. But they don’t care as much for the citizens there, see?” Stormblade put two and two together from there. She never followed politics very closely, but she had heard her colleagues talk about problems and issues around Skylands. The crazy thing was, despite the chaos and hectic situations that happened the world over, there were always patterns to be found. The situation Softpaw described was a familiar one.

She read her paper again, this time giving it a closer look. This Mama Peahen character was supposed to be the food truck’s driver, as well as Agent Softpaw’s character’s adopted daughter. She looked up at him. He  _ was _ beginning to show his age a little. Don’t get her wrong, he was ageing well, but he did very much look like an older man at this point. A silver fox, if she would allow herself to make a pun.

At least his age would make their identities more convincing.

She realised why they assigned her that specific assignment now. This assignment called for a strong driver, and she was one of the greats among the Skylanders. Even though she specialised in flying planes, she could handle a food truck in a pinch. “It says to report to Garage V in the East sector to get our food truck and disguises. There, we’ll also get our identification papers, and a few recipes to sell the act,” said Softpaw. He then folded up his piece of paper before stuffing it into his mouth and swallowing it. 

“I recommend you do the same,” he said, after he noticed the surprised look on her face. “But memorise your bit first. You’ll get better at it over the years.”

He waved at her to follow him. And so the two of them spent the rest of the morning crossing bridges and islands on foot, until they finally arrived at the East sector, and Garage V.

*****

It was a very quick briefing at Garage V. Most of it directed more at Softpaw than at her. He was taught very quickly how to make sandwiches, burritos, tacos, enchiladas, cheesy fries. All manner of foods which could be sold from a food truck. Then the two of them were handed identification cards and permits to sell food, and both were given a quick crash course on food hygiene. “It’s not my first time at the rodeo, so don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one gets food poisoning,” whispered Softpaw to her. She later learned that he had spent a few years as a part-time chef before becoming a spy, back when he was working odd jobs to make ends meet. So he technically had certifications, he just couldn’t use them as they were under his real name.

Then once the afternoon was over, they were sent off without another word. With a truck full of food, disguises, fake documents, and various parts for constructing weapons. For the next few weeks, months, maybe even years, it would just be the two of them in the truck. They would be the only ones in those islands with any means to directly contact Secret Ninja Commando Headquarters. And without a doubt, they would be taking full advantage of those contacts.

Stormblade took off at dusk, crossing bridges, islands and countless dirt roads. Softpaw sat shotgun to her, talking and then later going to the back to prepare some sandwiches for dinner. They paused for a while to eat, then continued on their way.

“So, how are you feeling about your first mission?” Asked Softpaw, eating his salami sandwich with big bites.

Stormblade ate her own tuna melt much slower, but mostly because it tasted great and she wanted to enjoy it with relish. “Well, a little nervous, but mostly excited. It’s like a new adventure, you know? There’ll be a lot to learn, but I feel like I’m ready to face it.”

Softpaw smiled and chuckled. “That’s good. You’ll definitely be needing this sort of attitude working for the Ninja Commandos.”

He then turned on the radio. And most of their journey afterwards was the two of them singing pop songs off-key, ribbing on the radio deejays, and taking note of any interesting weather conditions to look out for. It lasted for a couple of hours, until Softpaw fell asleep right beside her. Crumbs from dinner were still littered on the dashboard, and whenever they crossed a particularly bumpy stretch of road, the crumbs would jump around and a few would fall to the floor, onto their laps.

Now that there was no one to talk to, it left Stormblade alone with her thoughts. Just like in the past, before she was a Skylander, back when she was still on a one-woman crusade to find the edges of Skylands. Those days were some of the loneliest days of her life, and she would be lying if she didn’t admit the loneliness was part of why she ended up giving up on the endeavour the first time round. But loneliness when you were completely alone was different from having no one to talk to because your travelling companion was asleep. Compared to the former, the latter felt more comforting. The silence was relaxing, as opposed to eerie and torturous. 

So she was okay with being alone with her thoughts, and letting them wander.

A part of her missed being able to travel via rift. But since the food truck wasn’t equipped with a rift engine (and for good reason), she supposed it was time to take the scenic route. The scenic route wasn’t even necessarily a  _ bad _ thing. It’s just that after getting used to driving across Skylands within  _ seconds _ , going on an actual road trip was something she was going to have to get used to.

Nightfall used to make fun of her impatience a lot. But it wasn’t like she was a stunning example of patience either. For the most part, they teased each other about such things. She got the feeling she was going to miss that sort of mutual teasing while they were away.

She looked around her. Nothing for miles except for dirt, berry bushes, and trees. It was going to be a long journey to the islands, the people back at HQ estimated that it would take a week. She had found a map in the glove box detailing all the possible gas stops they could take, but at the moment they really did not need it. She was informed that they had several two litre jerry cans filled with gasoline in the trunk. And they started the journey with a full tank anyways. Usually the Ninja Commando were careful about this sort of thing, so she trusted that the gasoline was in the trunk, just like they said. And Softpaw checked earlier and confirmed it to her.

Still, just because she had nothing better to do, she estimated when they would next need to stop off. It gave her a decent idea of which direction she should drive towards too, plus gas stops were always a better place to have a bathroom break compared to the wilderness. So there was that.

Eventually, she got bored and tired. And that was as good a sign as any to stop the truck and get some sleep. If she were to go on any longer, that would only increase their risk of getting into an accident. And it was better to run late by a few days than to run late by a few months because they needed to recover from a crash. 

So she pulled over to the side of the road, fell asleep on the dashboard, and got up when the sun rose and casted its light over everything.

*****

“So, that will be one box of nachos, one box of fish tacos, and one cup of limeade. Will there be anything else?” Asked Stormblade, currently going undercover as Mama Peahen. Softpaw was behind her, working the kitchen and going under Grandpa Kit.

The green dragon at the window smiled leisurely behind his oversized sunglasses. He continued reading the menu, as if he had all the time in the world. Stormblade knew better than to judge appearances though. Even if he appeared to be a tourist or merely a civilian enjoying the sunshine by the beach, he could very well be a freedom fighter. All he needed to do now was to say the code word…

“Well, yes. I was wondering if you still sold the  _ Angel Special _ ? If so, replace the limeade with that, please.” There we go…

“I’m sorry sir, but we no longer sell it here.” Stormblade smiled at Softpaw in the back and flashed him a thumbs up. The bangles on her arm (part of her disguise) jingled when she did so. Then she turned her attention back to the freedom fighter. “Will the limeade still be good enough?”

“Oh, the limeade would be more than enough. Thank you.”

And that was Softpaw’s cue to get to work. He filled a cup with limeade, and fitted a tight cover onto it to prevent spillage. It was one of the better quality cup and cover sets on the market. Stormblade tested them out and they almost never spilled the drinks they were containing. The folks at HQ really thought ahead there. After the drink was finished, Softpaw slipped on his gloves, and then slotted a weapon part into a cardboard box. He threw on a ton of corn chips onto it, then covered the lot with cheese and tomato salsa. Once the nachos were done, he reached out for the taco shells. They sold two tacos per box set, and so they were usually able to sneak two parts in with them. Softpaw placed two small parts into each shell, then covered it all up with lettuce, fish, onions and a ton of special sauce. Stormblade asked him what was in his sauce once, but he refused to tell.

They sterilised all the weapon parts every two hours, so as to not contaminate the food. So not only did the freedom fighters get their parts, but they got plenty of edible food too. Some time at night, they were now going to meet up and construct their supplies together with the parts they had all collected.

The two of them had been successfully supplying parts around the islands for about a month now. Stormblade worked the counter as a peahen, and Softpaw worked behind her as the cook in this operation. When they first arrived, they started out in the tiny seaside town of Ocean Village. A fairly popular tourist destination, even if it was far from being a hotspot. They got a fair amount of tourists buying their wares, as well as plenty of freedom fighters coming in every day. There was an agreement which Softpaw told her about, where they would only stay for a couple of weeks. And in that time, they were to try and buy as many parts as possible from them.

After one week, they met up at midnight at the port with an agent sent by HQ. A couple nights before, Softpaw discussed things with the sector leader in the town, and compiled a list of things they needed. Medicine, water purifiers, clothes, armour. Anything at all. He sent a radio message to HQ asking for an agent to send those things in, and they went to the port that night to meet up and collect them.

The sector leader then dropped by to meet them again for the next few nights, while they would pretend to drink together. He would collect all those things from them in chunks, to distribute around the community. Additionally, for their one final week in town, freedom fighters swarmed the food truck to buy up as many parts as possible. Some came by to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner, claiming that the food was just that delicious. And to be fair, it was great food.

They left after a week, so as to avoid drawing too much suspicion. The second town they arrived in was a little closer to the city. It was called Bandarlaut, and their stint there hit roughly all the same notes as it did the previous two weeks in Ocean Village. 

Now, they were at their third town on the map. Rumah Nelayan, which used to be a tiny fishing village but was now the biggest city in the cluster of islands. Loads of tourists, but also a ton of freedom fighters all over the place. Every day was a busy day for them all, especially since freedom fighters tended to order outside of the lunch and dinner rushes. That meant that they pretty much never had a moment to catch their breath.

She didn’t mind it though. It wasn’t even like she had the hardest job in this operation. Softpaw was the one sweating it out in the kitchen, organising meetings with sector leaders and people from HQ, preparing all the logistics. All she had to do was put on a pleasant face, take orders, and collect money. She didn’t even have much money to count anyways. They set the prices for food ridiculously low. One could buy a meal of tacos, nachos, a large drink and an ice ball dessert for the price most fancy restaurants charged for an appetizer.

In all honesty, that was probably for the best. She was never the best at maths. 

After a long, hard day of work, the two of them would have to clean up the truck. Softpaw would prepare some sandwiches or burritos for the two of them to function as a late dinner, and they would spend the evening talking about anything before falling asleep. Most of the time, they talked about the mission. They would go over all their tricks to avoid raising suspicion from guards, talk about the marketplace and where to get the best fresh ingredients (this was what they spent all the money on), and that evening, Softpaw asked her how she was coping with her first month.

“It’s been going super,” she said. And she was only half-lying. 

The whole process had given her memories which she would probably never forget, ever. On the road to the island, she recalled the ever-changing scenery. The transition from dirt path to sand to gravel. The various rest stops and petrol stations around Skylands. The bridges connecting islands to islands. Both old and newly constructed, both magically built and hand-made. She remembered when the music on the radio would turn to static, and they needed to search for another station to listen to. Falling outside of a radio station’s broadcast range was like its own mini-adventure. How they had to search for new stations. Which played different music, with different deejays hosting the programmes.

For the most part, they listened to the same radio station ever since they arrived at Perahu. It had just the right mix of news, good music, and charismatic radio show hosts. While working, it was great to have on in the background. But the mini adventures continued in other aspects. Each town was slightly different from the other. And Stormblade would spend two weeks immersed in the culture. Talking to sector leaders, shopping at markets in the wee hours of the morning, handling the counter. She felt like she learned a lot, yet hardly enough.

The ‘hardly enough’ was because of the part she was lying about. The part which disturbed her, yet she didn’t want to tell him about just yet.

Even though the demeanour of the locals was generally cheery, and everyone was friendly enough with her, there were signs that there was not as much unity among even the freedom fighters as Softpaw had made it seem. In the mornings, when she went to the market, there was usually some shouting match occurring somewhere. Sometimes, when manning the food truck, she caught sight of two of different species giving each other glacier-cold stares. There were patterns to it too, such as dragons and unicorns. Or foxes and… almost anyone really. Usually dragons. It was a diverse place, but it was really clear that the foxes were the majority race. And to further complicate it, foxes also tended to be among the poorest in the community. 

The more she paid attention, the more she realised that all of it definitely affected the way the citizens treated others. It all happened in such subtle ways, but once Stormblade noticed it, she could never unsee it.

“Hey, by the way. Remember, but we’ll be meeting up with the sector leader tomorrow.” he always reminded her about these things, since it gave her a rough idea about what time she should begin accepting last orders. The great thing about working a food truck was that people accepted your authority when it came to things like when to close up shop. The most she ever got were a few cheeky tourists. But for the most part their customers had been fairly accepting. 

When she brought that up to Softpaw, he told her that some other food truck drivers have not been as fortunate as they have been. “Count our blessings Peahen,” he said, “things could be so much worse.”

That night, they went to sleep early. They slept at the front on the dashboard, with their work area locked up behind them. As usual, Stormblade woke up way before the sun rose so that she could head to the market early and get the best ingredients for Softpaw to do his work with. And when she returned, he was already up preparing a hearty breakfast for them. 

*****

The sector leader for Rumah Nelayan was a fox, just like Softpaw was. She went by Yvonne, and she walked into the food truck, just like all sector leaders did, with a big cloth bag filled with empty glass bottles. This was to trick any passers-bys into assuming that the sector leader was just going in for a drink with them. Most sector leaders tried to curate a trashy reputation for themselves. Many living in town don’t suspect that they could be involved with anything bigger that way.

Yvonne lived in the slums at the edge of the city. She was connected with a good chunk of the poorest living in the area that way. Many freedom fighters lived in the slums, but there were freedom fighters from every socio-economic group. 

There were freedom fighters of all species too. That was something which Stormblade found rather interesting. Among those who asked for an Angel Special were dragons, foxes, elves, dwarves, griffons, and so many other species it could take ages to list them all. All from different races too. There were for example, many elves who appeared to be of mixed heritage, and dragons of all shades appeared at their window.

Softpaw explained it to her. “These islands used to be rife with immigrants because of trade,” he said. “Traders from all over Skylands used to come here to do business, and over time some people decided to settle down here. That’s honestly why there’s so many debates regarding who should be the true rulers of the country.” Most of the records involving the earliest history of Perahu before it opened its borders for trade had been lost. And it had been so far back - literal millenia - many don’t even know how exactly they had been lost. There were many theories. Some of them were tied to bad blood between different species, most involved the Arkeyans. 

“In my opinion, it’s pointless to argue about who deserves to be the monarchs,” said Yvonne, seated down on the floor with them. “Monarchy is an ineffective, outdated model anyways. The future of these islands truly lie in populism and democracy.”

Yvonne, as well as the first sector leader they met, were advocates for populism and democracy. The second, a sun dragon, advocated for a distant relative of his to become the new ruler. “There’s evidence that sun dragons lived on these islands before trade became big here. All this old architecture is reminiscent of sun dragon craftsmanship, and my family has a ton of stories about us living here for generations too. By right, we should be the true rulers here.”

Interestingly enough, both Yvonne and the first sector leader they met had been foxes. Though the first sector leader had a grandfather who was a werewolf. 

As usual for sector leaders, Yvonne thanked them for their service. Then she informed them about the needs of the people in the town. “We’ll be needing some medicine for the flu. I would say about… five thousand packs? And of course, plenty of water purification devices too. If you can, try to get a minimum of three hundred.” There were lots of people living in the slums, and even some living in the housing blocks had no access to clean water.

And just like the other sector leaders, Yvonne stayed behind to talk politics. “Personally speaking, I don’t think the monarchists have much of a leg to stand on. They want a single type of ruler to take control over all these islands, and in an island as diverse as this, that could only lead to problems. I mean, it led to the problems we have now, didn’t it?”

The current rulers were tree nymphs. The tree nymphs had been rulers for only slightly over a century, but they were the victors during the last revolution. It was very clear that they were not good rulers though, based on what Stormblade saw on a day to day basis. Guards really were stationed everywhere. Even in front of toilets. And though nothing terrible happened in front of her eyes, just talking to the sector leaders, hearing their life stories, the stories of their family and friends, was enough to make her agree with them on one thing. The current monarchs needed to go.

But there were constant disagreements about who they should be replaced with. And the strawmen didn’t help. Stormblade thought that Yvonne had a point about democracy, but the monarchists she had talked to hadn’t talked about dictatorships at all. “Obviously I think that there should also be a council to help with the issues of other species, but there’s plenty of evidence to suggest that us sun dragons are the first to call these islands our home. So why shouldn’t we be the rulers here?”

He had tons of stories about how sun dragons were mistreated, mostly by wood nymphs, as well as by foxes. How they denied them housing, or refused to serve them in their businesses. “They’re the majority here, and the sad truth of the matter is that it makes a lot of foxes think that they get to push those of other species around.”

She brought it up to Yvonne, and Yvonne only had another perspective to add. “Oh,  _ everyone _ says that their species was originally from these islands. I knew a man who believed that  _ werewolves  _ were the first to call these islands home. And he had  _ a ton _ of evidence too,” She said, sarcastically. “It happens to so many groups on this island. The elves, the griffons, the dwarves…”

Her eyes narrowed, as if she recalled something personally infuriating to her. “And anyways, it’s interesting how no one ever tries to claim that foxes are the first ones here, isn’t it? It’s also interesting how we’re the biggest demographic, as well as the poorest demographic on average too. It’s honestly kind of a distraction from real issues, in my opinion…”

Then a smile appeared on her face again, and she wrapped an arm around Stormblade’s shoulders. “You’re a good woman Peahen. But you really shouldn’t believe everything people tell you here.” And then she left, thanking the two of them for helping the freedom fighters out.

When she finally left, Softpaw got to work cooking dinner, and Stormblade was left to think by herself, in the front of the truck. The whole political situation there just seemed like such a mess. A mess which she tried to inform herself about, yet every time she tried, a new factor would rear its head and complicate things. She hoped that there was a right thing to do, and if there was, she would very much like to do that. But the way things were, from where she was standing, the right thing to do seemed more like an ambiguous concept rather than a concrete action.

And she hated whenever things got to this point. There has always been a part of her who wished to make everyone happy and satisfied. But where she was, as someone merely smuggling weapons, she couldn’t do very much.

Was smuggling weapons even the right thing to do? After they overthrow the current monarchs, their conflicts would be far from over. It’s like endless suffering. Was she even doing the right thing by helping out in this conflict? Weren’t there more peaceful ways of handling it?

Or maybe everyone had already tried all those peaceful ways. And that was why they eventually needed to resort to violence.

Softpaw eventually came out with two hot burritos, stuff with any leftover food they had left in the kitchen. Usually it was rice and beans, as well as a bit of chicken for Softpaw’s burrito. But if they had any leftover fish, Softpaw usually put it into Stormblade’s burrito.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to appear happier. But it wasn’t successful. He caught on.

“Is something wrong, Peahen?” He asked. “You look like there’s something on your mind. Penny for your thoughts?”

She sighed, wondering how to word all the worries she had rushing around in her head. “It’s… are we doing the right thing?” She asked, then took a bite of her burrito. Warm flavoured rice and black beans filled her mouth, and it had a delightful savoury taste. But it all just tasted sour to her. “Like, if we supply the revolution with weapons, what good are we doing if it just seems like the revolutionaries are gonna end up fighting each other after they overthrow the current rulers…”

It was pretty obvious that the only reason they were teaming up now was because they all disliked the current monarchs. As the old saying went, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’. But what about afterwards? Will history look favourably on their actions? Would the future understand? She fidgeted with the bangles on her arms.

Softpaw nodded sympathetically. “I understand your worries. Truthfully, working as a Ninja Commando, you often have to work in morally grey areas. It’s… it just comes with the territory of working this job.”

“But how do you cope with it?” Stormblade had taken three big bites of her burrito, and immediately lost her appetite. She couldn’t force herself to eat anymore. Her stomach felt like a cold iron ball. 

“Truthfully?” Began Softpaw. “You never fully do. All you can do is look at the problems right in front of you, and try to fix it right then and there. And when another problem pops up, you fix that problem. You should of course try to think ahead as much as you can, but life is terribly unpredictable, and some problems you simply can never predict. That’s just the life of people like us.” 

An awkward silence. 

“You know,” said Softpaw, “I actually spent a couple of years living here.” He had never mentioned that before. Funny, she would have thought he would bother to tell her.

“Really?” Asked Stormblade. Softpaw nodded. “How come?”

“Aunt was getting sick. She lived in one of the tiny villages here. So I moved here to look after her until she died.” He patted her on the arm. Stormblade had to admit, it was a comforting gesture. “And so I can safely say that the political system really is just as hectic and confusing for the locals too. Most really are just trying to survive and get by, and most don’t really have an answer to the big problems. I know it feels like everyone here’s a revolutionary type, but really, it’s only a small group. It’s okay to live life solving the problems right in front of you.”

After he finished his burrito, he curled up into his chair. It was obvious that he was about to drift off the sleep, and leave Stormblade alone again.

She thought about his words, the iron ball in her stomach growing harder and colder. Her mind swarmed with possible outcomes to all that was happening, and she ran through all the perspectives she had internalised so far. They had so many other towns to get to too. Each sector leader in those towns would also have something to say about the political system, and without a doubt there would be so many varied perspectives. But which ones were right? And which ones would only lead to more suffering? She thought and she thought and she thought.

And somehow, though she didn't know how, she managed to fall asleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> I pretty much exclusively listened to M.I.A while writing and editing this. So... yeah.


End file.
